


undertow

by simplyclockwork



Series: natural progression [14]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Drabbles, Eventual relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Oceans, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sappy, Series, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock-centric, abstract writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 11:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21445207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/pseuds/simplyclockwork
Summary: I fell in love with your eyesbefore your voice—they told me storiesyour lips never could
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: natural progression [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538974
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	undertow

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlet 14 in a series of short fics I'm planning to write based on posts from the tumblr account affectionatesuggestion
> 
> The series will follow a progression into an established Johnlock relationship
> 
> This one is a little different from the other pieces in the series, as it's inspired by a post from a different tumblr than the others (phrases.tumblr.com)
> 
> Sorry it's so short!

Sherlock finds himself magnetized to John’s eyes like a ship caught in a storm—drawn to land through a sense of inevitability and a last ditch effort push for survival in the face of certain destruction.

Blue, the depth of an ocean; miasmatic in their ability to entice him to drown in a sea entirely, achingly of his own making. When John looks at him, it is from leagues of endless shores; shipwrecks and icy distances unknown.

As a child, he played at piracy; falsified the plundering of high seas upon rocky beaches with wooden sword brandished in hand. As an adult, he stands steadfast through the tempest of John Watson’s gaze, stranded on coastlines of prophetic origin. The unspoken admissions and secrets buried deep in John’s mouth crash beneath inevitable waves in blue eyes, etching promises and declarations into eroded sand.

When Sherlock discovers clandestine words like _love_ and _yearning_ inscribed upon the walls of his fragile heart, he sinks into stories held within the heavy cerulean flood of John’s tidal pull. As with the briny bite of seafoam air, Sherlock’s lungs burn in the face of devolving synapses, caught in the eyes of his intoxicating soldier.

If this is what love is, the swell and flow of tsunamis and undercurrents sweeping him beneath the undertow, Sherlock willingly breathes water and thunderstorms in the hope of snagging upon the anchor of John Watson.


End file.
